Advent of Peace
by Anatomy Melancholia
Summary: Mick and Coraline's relationship is usually a war. But at Christmas she teaches him the highlight of being a vampire and he finds a measure of peace.


Disclaimer: WB owns 'Moonlight.' I make no money off this.

AN: This was posted under a different username elsewhere so please don't cry plagiarism if you recognize it. ;)

--

Their first Christmas together, Coraline taught Mick how to fly. She coaxed him to grudging assent, the word 'fly' repeating itself in mounting frustration as she struggled with his aversion. It was like pleading with him to understand 'gift' or 'forever;' they faced each other across a chasm of semantic difference. As for flying, he didn't care much. Oh yeah, the pilots in the war had been the big guns, but he'd seen them die like rats. Mick liked two feet on firm ground.

"Every vampire can do it," she said expectantly. "You need to learn this."

Mick faced away from her. "If God meant us to fly he'd have given us wings." Christ, he sounded sanctimonious. He'd been aiming for sarcastic, bitter, destroyed. He opened his mouth to try again and found himself laughing, hoarse and cracked. "Like fucking angels." And he didn't wait to see the shock on her face before he walked out to bury himself in the pool for as long as he could.

Coraline let him go, lips clenched tight. That word. He only used that word when he retreated from her, far away to someone she'd never known. There wasn't even the attempt at smooth sophistication in him, just the roughness, coarseness of a worthless peasant. She felt the shock of nails digging into her palm and refocused. No, there would be no taking him home until he was ready. He had to be ready, she would make sure of that. Cynthia would lie to the family but not well enough, she knew. He had to be ready; she would never let them hurt him. If only he'd been willing....

The splashing outside stopped faster than she'd expected. Wet feet padded quietly towards the glass.

"Why should I?" He spoke low and terse, knowing she heard every word.

She wanted to tell him the terror of dying, of not knowing the limits or the strengths of your body, she wanted to tell him all about running and hiding in silks and lace that could buy five souls for breakfast. She wanted him to break the glass between them again and run to her with that fire in his soul again. Fire she could work with. This...pain...there was nothing she could do with it. Well, if that was what it took...

The laughter rippled out of her. She sounded frothy, titillating. She almost saw his hackles rise. "Because you're clumsy and slow. And you could be so much better than that."

The images taunted them both – voyeur and participant. Mick could see himself dripping in the reflection, the dark, contemptuous woman even further out of his reach now than he'd ever thought her. Fledgling rage is a powerful thing and he was still young enough to crave her approval, as much as he fought it. He didn't need a chair this time; Mick was through the window, snarling his rage before he realised he had moved. He only stopped himself as he leaned above his wife, claws extended an inch from her throat.

Coraline watched him move with speed she hadn't known he'd possessed and she heard the glass still tinkling as he loomed above her. He wanted to kill her, that much was obvious. But that fire! Oh, God. She could feel the power and the passion in him. He was magnificent. He stood there, tendons bulging in his neck, talons spaced at her throat, dripping blood like an offering from the Gods.

And then all that was left was the flaring lust between them.

--

An hour later she felt so soft and vulnerable in his arms, he said, tracing belly and thighs. Coraline didn't speak; it was his turn and she hoped he would show her the way back to him.

In the stillness that followed, he lay on his back, arm stretched above his head, and she curled against him. Silence filled them, wiping clean the memories. Mick realised with a shock that neither of them was breathing heavily - human women gasping and sighing in the aftermath was already a distant memory, contrasted with the cool, lithe...demon lying next to him.

She turned her head and smiled.

He felt the itch run up his back and grit his teeth. Coraline's smiles never reached her eyes. Why had he never noticed that before? She was like an abandoned puppy begging for a home, happy lips and the wariness and cynicism of years in her eyes. Was that what he would become?

The arm moved from above his head to cover his eyes and she knew she'd lost this time. He would not show her the way in. He would love her and then turn away as if she bored him. She could almost hear the jeering laughter: betrayed by a mortal; betrayed by a fledgling; betrayed by a husband; betrayed by love.

It was enough. He must learn, sooner rather than later, who was Sire and who Fledgling. There was barely a change in temperature when she sat up and moved away. She rustled into a dressing gown of vivid red, hands smoothing over the pockets.

"Get up," she ordered. "You need to replenish your blood."

The nausea rolled off Mick in waves. "I'm not hungry," he countered, still unable to look at her.

"It wasn't a request."

That did get a reaction. He was upright and angry, heart plummeting. They were back where they had started.

She had his attention now and switched tones. "Please?" she amended. "I'm hungry too after you've worn me out." Her hips shifted slightly so he could smell how satisfied she was.

An ugly look played around his mouth."Then why not eat?" he asked, teeth coming together in a quick 'snap' on the last word.

"Because," she pouted slightly, "I want my husband with me. Please, Mick?"

"Why don't you just bring him to bed? You can have the both of us." It was a childish shot and one that he was ashamed of the instant it was said, but it hung there between them as he watched for her reaction.

"Because," she said finally, "I love you."

She left as the words jostled themselves into a blinding flash behind his eyes.

_I'll love you forever._

_Forever?_

_It's a gift._

_...to love and to obey..._

Mick could smell the sex on himself, every slow breath dragging Coraline deeper into his lungs. He thought of how it felt to be with her when there were no words, no bitter adjustments, no demands, no games, just the full reality of his body invading hers and the woman in his arms. Love.

--

On the occasion of their first Christmas together, Coraline St John taught her husband how to bend his mind and will with his legs and jump higher than he'd ever supposed before. She told him not to be scared but he was, so she taunted him till he jumped just to prove her wrong. She taught him how to harness the energy in his undead body and leap gracefully into the air. Then she taught him what it was to be a vampire and fly.

"This isn't flying," he told her when he'd landed safely on the roof for the third time.

She turned sparkling eyes towards him, teasing as she shrugged his observation away. "We're not bats, we're vampires."

His face gentled as it watched hers. "You really enjoy this."

The smile was pure joy. "Don't you?"

And she was away, leaping higher. He watched her grasp a branch and pull herself upwards. This time it had reached her eyes. _Yes_, he admitted to himself. _Yes, I do_.


End file.
